The Path of Kyane
by Shadowhawke
Summary: Set in late Season Six, with a different time line. Faith shows Buffy a few home truths about Spike, but what will become of it? NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**The Path of Kyane**

**Chapter I: Enlightenment**

(Hello... I apologise profusely from not having written for an incredibly long while. Not only has real life been awfully busy, but I have lost touch a bit with Starlight and I'd like to begin Adhara's Fate again sometime.

I hadn't planned to write this, but I saw a Spuffy video on I know, I know... But the thing is, it reawakened my urge to write Buffy fanfiction again, so it can't be a bad thing, can it?

The Path of Kyane is the product of watching those heartbreaking videos. I'm not sure whether I should continue it, because it stands quite well as a one-shot. So I would love your opinion on whether I should continue this or not. If I did continue this, I probably wouldn't be able to update more than once a week. However, I can promise you that I would be just as dedicated to it as I was to the first Starlight, Sheratan's Call... which I'm still proud of finishing. :).

Ah... I should stop babbling. Please enjoy this piece. It's set somewhere near the end of Season 6, but I've played with the timeline quite a lot. You should be able to figure out the rest from reading this. Thank you.)

8 8 8

"You're a real piece of work, you know."

The concrete cracked under her feet as Buffy swung around. The air was cold tonight. It cut through her skin and made her eyes water, but even that paled in comparison to what she felt when she saw just who it was addressing her.

Buffy's lips tightened into stone. "Oh great. So not only do I have to deal with Evil Willow tomorrow… but now I have to have _you_ in my dreams. Wonderful."

Faith snorted, and swung off the sarcophagus she'd been sitting on. "It's not any better for me… believe it. I would have told those Powers-That-Be people to piss off and leave me alone if your dear Angel hadn't convinced me."

A brief smile managed to flash itself across her face. Cold, sardonic. Buffy knew that smile, and felt a twinge of something in her heart. How strange. She was feeling. Buffy stared at her, hand still clasped firmly around the knife that had materialised in her hands. She didn't question its existence, just like she didn't question the crypt around her. It was a dream. Pure, and real and tangible… with all of the paradoxical irony attached to that. Looking down, she saw it was still covered with Faith's blood.

"You're… actually… Faith? Not dream-Faith?" she asked in a strange mix wonder.

"Oh, so you've been having other dreams of me, have you B?" the dark Slayer snickered, and kicked up a tuft of grass. Buffy hadn't even noticed their surroundings shift to one of the many graveyards in Sunnydale… but now she swallowed. The moonlight made the blood on the knife glint freshly. "If I wasn't so sure that you hate my guts, I'd be thinking you were hot for me."

"Get over yourself," Buffy rolled her eyes, before turning and walking away. "I don't have time to waste on you… not a dream-you, and most definitely not a real you."

Faith's laugh was bitter as it followed her, and the blonde Slayer tried to ignore it. "Oh yeah, that's the stuff, B. It's all five-by-five when you can walk away, isn't it? That's what you're always doing. Walking away… running away. Too bad you can't run away from yourself."

As abruptly as Buffy had turned, she was back, grabbing Faith by the throat. "As if you can talk, you…"

Undeterred, the dark-haired Slayer lashed out a foot, catching Buffy in the gut. The blonde-haired Slayer stumbled back, and Faith flipped herself up onto a two meter stone column that had materialised out of nothingness. Wheezing, Buffy looked up, and was somehow reminded of a time when Spike had sat like that, his duster flowing over the stone.

She shook her head violently and leapt to her feet.

"That's rich," she spat, feeling the old anger course through her shrivelled veins like fire. "Coming from you, and your whole 'do-my-boyfriend-like-a-skanky-ho-routine-and-then-run-to-Angel' routine."

If Faith had realised the implications behind those words, she didn't bat an eyelid. "We're not talking about me," Faith sneered down at her. "We never are… the fucking Powers certainly didn't send me here for that. No… as always, it's all about little Miss. Buffy, isn't it?"

Her hold on the knife tightened "What the hell are you talking about?" Buffy demanded.

Faith leapt to her feet, lithely, and began stalking across the cemetery gate, always at least a meter above Buffy's head. The blonde scowled as she had to crane her neck to keep her in view. _Stupid dreams. _"You know what I'm talking about, B. You were thinking about him just before. Peroxided, big snazzy-looking leather coat, cheekbones to die for… ringing a bell?"

Buffy scowled, and tightened her grip on the knife. "I could run you through with this just as easily as I did three years ago, you know."

Faith snorted. What had she expected, really? "You could try, you mean. And stop avoiding the subject."

"Look…" Buffy sighed exasperatedly, suddenly feeling beyond tired. This was the first sleep she'd had for so long… and now _this_. "Why now? I don't need to think about him right now. I need to concentrate on stopping one of my best friends from ending the world tomorrow. Why do those stupid Powers have to send you _now_?"

She could feel it in the air when it changed. The cold, biting wind stopped, and there was a stillness that wrapped both of the Slayers in its embrace. "Because time's running out, B," Faith's voice was suddenly serious. "Time's just slipping through both of us. Proverbial sand, you know."

The air morphed again, this time weighing her down with its soporific heat. They were no longer in the cemetery, they were in the desert; and the heat waves made the sand ripple like the sea. "Willow won't end the world. But you… you just might."

Bent under the dryness of the place, Buffy's head snapped up as Faith's last words hit her, and the Slayer gaped. "What do you mean?"

"Think about him, B," Faith prowled through the sand. The fine grains trickled against her skin, and she felt strong as she faced her sister slayer. "You entrusted your Mother to him. You entrusted Dawn to him. You entrusted _yourself_ to him."

"I didn't," Buffy said angrily, running to catch up amongst the slipping dunes. The desert rolled past her unceasingly, but it felt as if she'd stopped moving as the dark-haired Slayer grew smaller and smaller in the distance "I never did. I always remembered he was a soulless, evil demon."

Faith carried on as if she hadn't heard her. Even though she was just a speck on the horizon, Buffy could hear her voice as if she were right next to her. "Yeah… your Mum and Dawn because he could protect them. A part of you because he could protect you too, and you know that. Come on, B. He's the only man who'll ever put up with all the shit you give him and still love you. He scores points."

Everything just… culminated in her in a rush of pure emotion. Her body couldn't take it. _She_ couldn't take it, after all this time. Buffy slammed the knife down into the sand at her feet in frustration. "Please," she said hoarsely. "Can we not talk about this? What about this apocalypse you're saying I might cause?"

"One and the same," Faith replied enigmatically, ignoring the fact that the blonde Slayer was now on her knees, shaking. "You've entrusted all of this to him… and then you destroyed him."

Buffy closed her eyes and felt the brittleness inside her being stretched. "I don't know what you mean."

Suddenly, Faith was right in front of her, her dark eyes leaping to meet her own. Buffy stumbled backwards, her first instinct to flee. Faith kept a strong grip on her wrist and pulled her back.

"Yes you do," she insisted in a low, urgent voice. "You _do_. Come on, B. Don't fail us now."

"Us?" Buffy swallowed, focusing on the only safe word she could find.

"Haven't you been listening?" Faith shook her shoulders, and Buffy felt stars. "The Powers sent me for a reason… to kick your ass into gear! You don't have to worry about Willow, I promise. Someone else will take care of that. What you _do_ have to worry about is something bigger."

Buffy wrenched the other Slayer's wrist off her as she felt her teeth beginning to rattle. The sand stilled under her feet as she fell and stumbled upright again to face her. "Then tell me about what more I have to worry about, instead of just talking to me about Spike!"

Faith pressed a hand against her forehead then. "I don't know how he puts up with her," she muttered, her eyes cast up to the sky. Open-mouthed, Buffy was about to protest when she was ruthlessly shoved backwards until she was lying on the sand, and all she could see was sky.

Sky… stretching out… as blue…

As blue as his eyes…

From far away, she heard Faith's voice speaking to her, and she couldn't move. Could do nothing but look up into the endless sky and listen. Paralysed.

"I know this is gonna be tough for you, B." A harsh laugh bubbled out of the dark slayer's throat. "Being raped is not fun. I know. But he didn't rape you. He stopped. But more importantly, you can't take that as evidence of him being soulless and evil, can you?"

Buffy couldn't answer. She just felt the aching emptiness within her again, and tears started to well up in her eyes.

"World's not black and white, B. You should know that by now. They always called me the rogue Slayer, didn't they? I might not have been so high and mighty as you, saving the world so many times… but I'm out of jail, now. I got a chance. And with that chance, I realised again when I looked at you. I'm the better Slayer… I've _always_ been the better Slayer, because I don't have to fight myself."

Buffy wanted to scream at her. _Then why can I beat you so easily? Why haven't you ever saved the world? Why can't you do my job for me and leave me in peace?_

It seemed like Faith had heard the words. "Oh, yeah. You can beat me because you've got love, you know. Corny, isn't it? When I was you… in your body… all I wanted was to be you. You've got Giles, you had your Mum, you had Dawn and your gang. You had Spike and Angel and Riley."

With those words, Buffy wanted to laugh. Sick laughter, that made her lungs feel poisoned.

"You know what I mean, B. But when it comes to living… I win hands down."

_You call 'Want, Take, Have' living?_

Faith heard her again. "That's kinda changed for me," Faith shrugged. "Oh, believe me, it still applies. Just… there are different situations. Like for instance, the time I killed that man."

Buffy wanted to be sick.

"Yeah, I did it, B. I shoved a stake in his heart, and he bled everywhere. He died in agony. Died in about fifteen seconds, too. Not that he was all white and shining… he worked for the Mayor. Right-hand man. But then… you're not all white and shining either."

Buffy stared up into the bright blue heavens… and longed.

"I mean, I killed a man. But it was quick. You're killing a man every day, and it's even more agony. Drawn out. Torturous."

Buffy moved to think, but Faith stopped her before the thought even materialised.

"No you don't, B," Faith spat, and there was real anger in her voice this time. "You can't lie there and tell me that he can't feel anything… the fucking Powers made me sit through your little soap opera before sending me here. You do things with real style, don't you? Beating the 'monster' to pieces in an alleyway. Sure, I do that to vamps at times. But not like that… never like that."

Buffy did cry now. How could she even begin to put into thoughts the guilt and horror at herself behind the denial? Spike had been so…

"Convenient, yeah… I heard about that as well," Faith shook her head. "You always seemed so disgusted at me, you know. When I told you about how I felt after Slaying… but it's the same for you. You just repressed it for so long that you're darker than I'll ever be, because you shine."

_What are you, my stupid shrink?_

"Your darker half, baby," Faith laughed, but it sounded sad. "I'll always be in your shadow. I know it, you know it, everyone knows it. Because despite what I said earlier, you will always be the greatest Slayer that's ever lived."

Buffy wanted to shake her head, but all she could do was keep crying.

"You try," Faith's voice was full of naked longing. "You always try so hard that you win, and even when you lose you keep trying until everything's done. You keep seeing it as duty… but it's your life."

Buffy half-laughed/half-sobbed._ Aren't we going off topic now? _

"Perfectly on," Faith shrugged, and the vulnerability was gone. Buffy ached at the loss of it. "'If you don't listen… you're going to 'do your duty' and end the world."

Buffy felt a chill again. Faith had said it before, but each reminder was even worse than the previous.

"Spike is special," Faith said softly. "Haven't you realised that yet? Or are your damn blinkers still wrapped around your head twice? You're not shining white, but neither is he all black, yeah?"

Buffy wanted to burst into hysterical laughter, now. All these emotions… all of these words… the intensity it frightened her. It was no longer a dream… it was…

_Clichéd._

Faith snorted. "Clichés are clichés for a reason. Come on, B… we live in a world fighting demons with big swords. Choke on _that_ cliché for a while."

Buffy wanted to argue, but of course, she couldn't.

"Anyway, time's running out," Faith sighed, staring through the desert as if the landscape itself were some invisible clock. "Maybe next time I shouldn't keep going like that. But yeah. Deal's this, Buffy. You've got to find Spike. And stop him. After that, hopefully you'll know what to do. If you don't, I'm coming to you in person so I can slap you back to three years ago."

With that, Buffy felt the paralysation leave her, and she leapt to her feet, staring at the dark Slayer. "But… Willow…"

Her voice was scratchy from her crying. Being in denial in the dream world… when everything was bright and real and sharp in an agonisingly alive way was difficult. This was the way the world had been for her once, she realised. When she hadn't given up. When Spike had been wrong about her Death Wish…

"Interesting how much you think about him when you claim you don't love him," Faith said, amused. "And as I said before… Willow will be stopped. And tell Giles I said hey when you wake up next to his hospital bed."

Faith began to fade from her vision, but Buffy's cry stopped her. "Wait! Wait! Can't you tell me any more?"

"Can't spoonfeed you, B," Faith smirked. "I think you'd protest."

"But I don't love him," she whispered.

Faith raised her eyebrow.

"Not… yet…" Buffy forced out from her throat.

The dark slayer laughed, and in that second Buffy saw herself behind those fathomless eyes. "Hope for you yet, B."

Buffy swallowed. Feeling like this was… she began to cry again, and she couldn't stop. The desert was kind around her. She could feel the entire atmosphere around her was Slayer. The One Slayer… the First. Within and without, in each grain of sand and each drop of oasis, she could feel the essence of the Slayer. And the words, replying in her mind…

_Love… live… forgive…_

"Wait!"

Faith had begun to fade out again, and she snapped back to full technicolour, looking irritated. "What?"

Buffy threw the knife to her, and Faith caught it. Looking at the handle expressionlessly… remembering all of the memories associated with it, she slid her gaze from the bloodied blade down to the hilt… and gasped.

The hilt was no longer evil… black. It was onyx… striped with greys and whites and shadow. When she moved her gaze up to the blade again, it was shimmering silver.

Her eyes met Buffy's and now both had tears in them. Faith swallowed, and felt something she hadn't for a long time.

"It's five-by-five, B," she smiled hoarsely.

Faith faded completely this time, and Buffy watched as sand and shrub replaced her larger-than-life sister slayer. She stayed there for a while, luxuriating, knowing she would be thrust unceremoniously back into the real world soon, with all its pain and all its worry once more.

Just before it did, she stared once again at the space that Faith had vacated.

"Yeah… it's five-by-five, Faith."

She paused, and smiled.

"Whatever that means."

8 8 8

She settled back into her body with a jolt. Giles was still lying on the hospital bed, his face pale but alive. Dawn was asleep on her lap. Buffy stretched her neck, ignoring the twinge resulting from her falling asleep on the hospital bedside table. Closing her eyes, she exhaled briefly.

When her eyes opened, they were a determined hazel fire.

She had a peroxided, blonde, pain-in-the-ass vampire to find.

8 8 8

(So... should I continue this or not? Please tell me, and I really hope you enjoyed this. :) )


	2. All that's Shattered

**Chapter II: All that's Shattered**

**A/N(Apologies for taking so long with this next chapter, I wanted to see if people wanted me to continue and whether I wanted to continue myself. : ). Since I've decided that I'd like to keep this one going, I finally managed to write the next chapter amidst the hectic-ness that is my life. . I hope you all enjoy, and thank you especially to obsessedwithspike, Kim, Dieu Anonyme, DanielNieves, willow-wiccan, and AutumnSoleil for letting me know that you wanted this to keep going. I wouldn't have decided to continue without you. :). Also, thank you for just giving me reviews. . It's what we writers live off. This… this chapter is for you guys. I hope everyone enjoys this and that it was worth it of me to keep going. : ) **

**So enjoy… and please review! Any constructive criticism or even comments on what you liked or what you didn't like are welcome. : ) )**

The growing panic was starting to choke her. Buffy ran, her long, dark blue cloak flapping behind her like a broken set of wings. _Oh god, have to… get there…_

The crypt had been empty. Feeling oddly dead inside, she'd stepped through the broken glass and the smell of alcohol that wafted through the place. She swallowed. That hadn't ever been the norm for Spike. Sure, she'd smelt the alcohol before, but it wasn't _like_ him to leave the glass there like that.

She closed her eyes again. Who was she to say these days what he was like?

She bit the inside of her cheek at that thought and squared her shoulders as she looked around. The upstairs was normal… at least as normal as it could be with the shattered glass scattered across the floor. There were specks of blood dotted around the concrete, dried and crusted as if someone had stepped on the glass and hadn't even bothered to stop the bleeding.

She bit the inside of her cheek again, but didn't start to worry until she climbed down the ladder to the lower level.

As soon as she'd safely descended, her heart began to beat wildly in her chest. _Oh god… Oh god no…_

Drawers had been hastily slammed shut with one lone, forlorn article of clothing gaping out of the gaps. The bed was unkempt, but looked as if no-one had slept in it for days. The candles that had always lit his crypt were scattered and unlit… it was only by the torchlight that she could see the strewn mayhem. Even the carpets that he'd seemed to lovingly rearrange every time she came were scattered.

She hadn't known what to expect.

But whatever she'd expected, it certainly wasn't _this._ She'd thought he'd at least be here. Maybe completely drunk, or icy cold, or unrepentant, or guilty or… or any thousands of emotions that she knew the vampire was capable of expressing.

She would have accepted those without a second thought. Perhaps yesterday she would have baulked and denied again that any trace of emotion lived in the vampire. The dead. But Faith had done her job.

Done her job… and Buffy had done the rest of it. The blonde Slayer closed her eyes briefly as she remembered the singing demon and the raw fire that had coursed through Spike's song. She remembered the fighting and the sex and the snarking and the laughs… and she was not surprised at the worry and fear that had begun to seep into her heart as she climbed the stairs in leaps.

_He's gone._

It hit her as she leaned against the sarcophagus where they'd fu… had sex. Spike was gone. _Gone!_ Spike… with his eternal smirk and peroxided hair. He, the one who'd always hung around the Magic Box, always been at home joking with Dawn, always been there on patrol even when she'd yelled at him to stop following her. He, who she'd always pushed away, and screeched at him to leave at the top of her lungs. He, the one who was supposed to always stay, even when she made his unlife and unliving hell. He…

_He was gone._

It shocked her… the fact that she felt as strong a compulsion to suddenly burst into tears as she wanted to rage at him. Stupid vampire! He was supposed to stay! After all of this… after everything… how could he have left?

Her conscience kicked up images at her, and the growing anger immediately dissolved into tears. He'd had plenty of reasons to leave. And they all led back to…

Her.

She slid down the granite stone and cried her heart out. Buffy, always the strong one, always the one of action and determination. Buffy, the hero… could do nothing but sit and cry. She felt angry, helpless, guilty… the feelings all spilled over, one after the other, again and again. She cried because of Giles, she cried because of Xander and Anya, she cried for Dawn. She cried for Joyce, she cried for Willow and Tara… but most of all, she cried for Spike and herself. Big, fat tears that stained clothes and choked her throat dry. Tears that couldn't even begin to dull the guilt. It made her want to laugh, and then cry some more at the realisation that even when he wasn't there, Spike could make her feel. This was all because of him. All his fault. In a good way.

And that made her cry even harder at the way she'd repaid him.

Buffy didn't know how long she sat there, hiccoughing and sobbing wretchedly, wishing for a tissue all the while. Or maybe a box of tissues. Tissues were definitely of the good when one had a blocked nose of denial. She was so wrapped up in her world that her Slayer senses didn't go off until Clem was right in front of her.

"S-Slayer?" the pink, fleshy demon gulped. "Oh… Oh dear. Oh no…"

Her head snapped up at that, and he flinched, backing away protectively. "Uh, Slayer… it wasn't my fault."

"W… what do you mean?"

Clem swallowed as he took in her tears, and he felt his heart soften a little. Spike must have been wrong when Clem had listened to his drunken rants so many days ago… she obviously did care. Care enough, at least, to have cried so much. There would be a pillar of salt left in the morning, he was sure.

"I… ah, Slayer… he told me not to tell you…"

Fumbling for words was never a good idea. When they slipped out, Clem winced. Now Spike would kill him.

"What?" she demanded, suddenly standing bolt upright and looking at him with a mixture of ferocity and pleading. It scared him, the intensity that was shining in his eyes. He gulped again and prayed that Spike would at least kill him quickly.

"He… he actually only left about half an hour ago. He told me to take care of the place… but he didn't tell me where he was going."

"How?" she demanded. "How did he go? What direction?"

Clem trembled a little. Um… he went North. With a motorcycle."

Buffy leapt forwards and gave the startled demon a quick hug, before barely touching the ground as she ran so fast she seemed to blur.

Clem had stared after her. "I almost wish that she'll catch him," the demon said softly, before he trod inside and shut the stone door behind him.

So now she was running. Running harder than she'd ever run in her life. The ground flew underneath her, each step a companion to the beat of her heart and the painful rush of air in her lungs. Buffy was a Slayer… she was by no stretch of imagination in bad shape, and she had Slayer speed to boot. But Spike had a half an hour lead on her… and he was on a motorbike. She really had no hope, she knew that. She should have gone somewhere… grabbed a car… which would have probably led to an untimely demise of either herself or someone else. But she didn't have time for 'should haves'. She could only run and pray and hope that he hadn't gone straight out, that he'd waited or stayed for a while. So that she could catch him…

Who was she kidding?

As the motor thrummed beneath him, Spike felt sick. This wasn't a change… after all, he'd been feeling sick ever since _it_ happened. Then again, now that he thought about it, the feeling had always been there, seeping its way in his undead gut for so long that it felt like eternity.

It all led back to Sunnydale. Angelus. Dru. And the Slayer…

But he didn't want to go there.

Snarling suddenly, he jammed down hard on the brakes, almost flipping the motorcycle over as it screeched to a halt on the side of the road. Cursing, he kicked himself off and landed solidly on his feet, his hands reaching to his duster automatically…

And finding it wasn't there. Again.

Growling, he clawed at his jeans, finding the squashed packages of cigarettes he'd somehow managed to jam in there the last few days when he'd ventured out of his crypt. He'd made Clem nervous; he'd never chain smoked that much in his life. Not even after he first realised that he was in lo…

Spike threw the unlit cigarette down and stamped on it. "Fuck!" he screamed into the air. "Why the hell does everything have to lead back to _her_?"

The vampire was nearing the end of his wits. Kicking the motorbike off the road, he shifted into game face to see where he was, trying to steady himself. He was only just out of Sunnydale, he knew. The grass and stunted trees stretched ahead of him to where he was going, but he found that looking down that way made his eyes ache. When he stared at his hands for a long while, finding nowhere else to fix his gaze on, he found that they were shaking.

"Bloody hell, mate," he said to himself softly. "'m not gonna kill myself in a soddin' road accident."

An old, weary smirk traced itself over the pale planes of his face. "It just wouldn't ring right… William the Bloody finally gettin' his fangs in the dust because of a car crash."

He dragged the motorbike closer into the grass, and sat against the still warm metal. There was still hours to go before dawn, so he didn't have to worry about that yet. Grimacing, he retrieved the dirty cigarette from the ground and lit it, trying not to care about the earthy taste mixed in with the smoke. Not that he was really concentrating fully on it anyway.

It was hard to, with all of the anger and guilt that he felt roiling inside him.

He took the cigarette out of his mouth and watched the smoke drift. "I don't have a soddin' conscience," he announced aloud to the sky, as if the stars could agree with him. "I'm a vampire. I live and bleed and kill. That's what I am, innit?"

He stared, intense sapphire eyes scanning the Heavens. "I mean, come on! I'm a demon here! I'm not supposed to care about anythin' that doesn't involve a good kill or good sex. What the soddin' hell is this?"

_Why the hell do I feel her beneath me, why can I taste her skin and touch her hair and smell the fear? _

"I like it when they're afraid!" he shouted out. His voice echoed in the emptiness, but he didn't pay attention to the sight he must have been; only clad in his jeans and black t-shirt, leaning against a motorcycle and screaming at the sky. "I bloody well love it! Chase them and wait until their very blood is scented with it!"

_The Slayer, afraid! The Slayer, who fights all the beasties on her lonesome in the graveyards night after night… afraid of **me**. When I'd sworn to protect her and love her and…_

"Oh hell."

Spike started laughing. They were hoarse, rasping laughs that made him sound like a dead man. He laughed until his bones were shaking and the bike behind him moved, and then he started crying because that was why he was laughing in the first place.

"Oh…" his fingers scrabbled in the dirt to find some sort of purchase. Spike felt like a part of him was levitating. The hysteria rolled over him in waves until he couldn't hold it in anymore. "Dru!" he shouted at the sky again, laughter mixed with tears bubbling out of his throat again. "Oh, my ripe wicked plum… my dark goddess… I know just how you feel now. All alone and talking to the bleedin' sky! Look! The stars are dancin' and…"

At this point, Spike broke down completely.

_Afraid of me. I wanted her, wanted her, wanted her. I needed her, needed her, needed her. I **loved** her, loved her, loved her. And all I can think now is of the look in her eyes… the look that told me I was nothing but a monster…_

_When I thought, for a while, I could be a man._

"Oh… oh hell…"

Spike had never cried much before. He hadn't needed to. All of the tears of William had been cried out of him after three years at the tender mercies of Darla, Angelus, and Dru. But after he'd fallen in love with the Slayer, he found there were still tears inside of him. A reservoir of silent anguish that caked his undead heart. Now, it all came leaking out again just like it had on the day she'd died… and on the night she'd come back.

Without preamble, he suddenly found himself babbling through his tears. The blades of grass that stretched out before him seemed to sway like a confessional as he rocked and moaned and mumbled, blurting out everything in a tsunami of grief and hysteria.

"Oh man, I've really done it this time. Gone and… screwed it all up like I always have. I only wanted… only wanted to make her feel it, I swear. That's all… I never meant to… hurt the girl. Never meant to… hurt the girl. Never wanted her to… look at me like that… like I was a monster…"

He hiccuped even though he didn't need to oxygen. "Like I was… worse than a monster. Hell, she looked at me… and I could have… been worse than the devil himself and all his bleedin'… coterie too. I could have been…"

His eyes rolled back and he kept crying.

"Could have been a soddin' soulless… evil… dead thing…"

Spike never knew what made him look up. The smell of grass was sharp in his nose, and so was the smell of his own tears and anger and guilt. All of his senses were running amok. His hearing seemed to magnify his sobs a million times, so that the whole world seemed to echo with the sound of his tears. He tasted the salt on his tongue and wept even harder.

But somehow, something made him look up, and when he saw her about twenty meters from him, standing like a statue, he froze.

He rubbed his eyes. She was still there, and there was such an infinite look of pain on her face that he shook his head and pushed back the tears into his throat.

"I'm insane, aren't I?" he asked her, choking slightly. "I've finally cracked it. The Hellmouth an' everythin' soddin' on it has driven me mad. Why else would you be here?"

She was silent, unmoving. To Spike, that seemed to prove his point. With some of his old swagger, he looked at her straight in the eye.

"Still, you're right pretty for a figment of my bloody imagination," he had to wipe away the last wave of tears to stop her from blurring, feeling more build up even as he did so. "But I don't suppose you could bugger off an' make me stop feelin' even more guilty?"

She moved then. Moved towards him like a fallen angel as he watched in awe, red splotches still under her eyes and a haunted look in her eyes that he knew somehow matched his own.

"Hello, Spike."


	3. Madness

**Chapter 3: Madness**

**A/N Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I know I took a long time coming out with this chapter. What happened was a rather effective case of writer's block. Today, I tried to write again, and I was about to give up when I saw your reviews, and this is what happened. : ).**

**So, I'd like to thank you all so very much again for reviewing. Even from the beginning, all of you who encouraged me to keep going. So yes… thanks to obsessedwithspike, kim (as always : ) ), Dieu Anonyme, DanielNieves, willow-wiccan, and Autumn Soleil for this chapter. : ) . I know that it might seem somewhat incoherent, but hopefully I'll be able to clear it up later. Until now, I hope you enjoy this chapter. (And the new one up on Adhara's Fate too!)**

**8 8 8**

Buffy wanted to reach out to him. Her fingers were already trembling so much she had to hide them in the folds of her sleeves. He looked like something unreal… a statue in dirty leather and tears. And yet, he was so alive that she could have been reborn in every anguish-filled second their eyes remained locked. She couldn't forget the irony… the dead man, who was more alive than anyone else she'd ever met.

It killed her now. It had always been killing her. She'd told him as much.

But she'd never known just how.

Not until this moment, at the very least. This moment, where all they were doing were being still, looking at each other. Two warriors who were always moving. Always fighting. Always feeling the blood run through them and around them, tasting the pure sparks of violence in the air.

They were still, and it seemed as if eternity wasn't enough to keep this moment going.

Spike broke it, naturally.

The snap of wood as Spike stood so abruptly and stumbled backwards over his bike to land on the ground again made her heart jump. Wood. _Wood_. In a flash, she was running towards him, barely registering the look of panic on his face.

"Don't!"

She paid him no heed until he scrambled back; "Slayer, no!"… scattering splinters from the branch he'd inadvertently broken when he'd fallen. She paused, just out of his reach as she stared at him with fear.

"W-what?"

Spike looked at his bleeding hands, punctured by the wood and slowly rose his gaze to meet hers.

He was torn.

Not that that wasn't normal for him. Bloody hell… she looked like an angel. Old lines of poetry came back to him, and he cringed.

_Saviour, shine thy sword away, _

_Thou light doth blind my eyes,_

_Dost thou grant salvation, pray?_

_Or doth destruction in thee lie?_

Closing his eyes and opening them again, he let out a hoarse, whistling breath. Somehow, in the darkness, he found a voice.

"Buffy, love…" he swallowed at the widening of her eyes. _I have no right to call her that now…_ "Slayer," he forced out, choking on the words. "Slayer, I…"

He looked so… broken. Confused. His eyes darted around as if he were looking for an escape, and she felt her heart thump within her ribs. Reminding her of the blood flowing through her veins. She leaned towards him as if his words were a lifeline and he shied away like a rabbit.

It broke his concentration. and he couldn't help it. "Just... don't be here."

She stared at him disbelievingly, and he felt his unbeating heart sink. William the Bloody Awful Poet… still failing to find the right words a century later. "Don't… be… here?" she enunciated slowly, stepping towards him. "What the hell are you talking about Spike?"

He didn't realise the question was half-rhetorical. "Shouldn't be here, Slayer. Out of Sunnydale, out of your town. Chasin' after a dead thing."

The look that she levelled at him made him laugh again, and his hoarseness choked him.

"You mean after everything that's happened between us," she gestured wildly around, and he thought she was pointing to the vast expanse of highway between them. "After everything that's gone down, the only thing you can think of to say is 'just don't be here'?"

He blinked in surprise.

She pursued it ruthlessly. "You think that'll ever solve this? Me not being here? Or is that what you want in general… for me not to be here?" the shock in and of her voice startled him into moving.

"Slayer, I never said that."

"Then what did you say?" she demanded, crossing her arms. He wanted to grin and make a snarky comment… he wanted anything to happen, as long as it prolonged the moment of her standing there, strong again. Not like the last time. "What did you mean?"

He swallowed. "I don't know what I meant," he said, blandly.

She wanted to explode, but she couldn't. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't. She wondered if she could still move. She reached out a hand to try, but her fingers stayed locked in her arms like stone.

"Don't take me like that, Slayer," he warned, coldness seeping from his tone. "You don't always have to be blamin' me for everything that goes through that pretty little head of yours."

He stood a little straighter.

"I meant what I said," he continued. "You… shouldn't be here. So just don't. Go back. Or else we'll soddin' finish this."

"Finish?" she asked in disbelief. "You think this is about finishing?"

They paused for a moment, locked in each others' eyes, and then he was so scared by what he saw in hers that he reeled back. "Oh! I see, that's it," he dashed away the last remnants of salt from his eyes and smirked, feeling naked without his duster draping around him. "You're finally gonna do it, aren't you?"

Incomprehension fuelled her irritation. "Spike…"

He ignored her. Felt his persona coat him like leather. "How bloody ironic. Couldn't have done it with better timin', Slayer. I finally leave, like you've wanted be to for how bloody long… and _now_ you decide to soddin' stake me. Or not soddin' stake me, because you can't seem to make up your mind!"

"Spike!" she snapped at him, and he stood down almost automatically at the sight of the green fire in her eyes. "Stop babbling and bloody listen to me!"

How could he refuse an offer like that?

She stepped in closer and he stepped away. "I didn't run all the way here to… stake you," she let the last words ease out as if she were in pain. Then her eyes grew murderous. "Moron."

He heard an echo of Dawn. Another girl hurt. Another life tainted.

"I… I came here because I…"

Something within Spike stilled his raging emotions. Perhaps it was her eyes, perhaps it was just her quiet declaration. Or perhaps he'd finally just cried himself out and could do nothing but be calm and recognise a side of Buffy she'd never shown him before. It surprised him, the amount of vulnerability in her eyes. Not when he'd told her every night he dreamed of saving her… not when she'd told him about Heaven, not at any time had she ever looked this…

"Because you what, Slayer?" he asked softly.

She brought her chin up and stared at him defiantly. "Because I want you to stay, you stupid vampire."

Spike's jaw dropped, and he wasn't sure whether he wanted to start laughing or crying again. "You wh-what?"

She refrained, barely, from stamping her foot. "You heard me," she snapped, and then when he recoiled from her, she stepped closer again, and this time he did not move away. "I don't want you to go. Please, Spike, I…"

"He looked at her, guardedly. "I don't suppose I have a choice in all of this, Slayer?" he queried guardedly, peering at her with red-rimmed eyes.

"I need you," she finished. And then she glared at him. "And no, you don't have a choice!"

"That's my gi…"

He cut himself off abruptly and fell silent, and she winced for him. He wanted to misinterpret it, to start off anything that could end the unbearable tension between them, but he couldn't. Wouldn't. Whatever had happened had brought them to this path, and so he squared his shoulders and stared at her.

"What happened, Buffy?"

She laughed shortly. "Between you disappearing, Giles coming back and getting himself landed in hospital, Faith kicking me in the head and Willow heading off to destroy the world, not much."

He stared at her and she couldn't help but laugh more. "Bloody hell," he said unexpectedly. "That sounds like Sunnydale."

A crooked grin spread across her face. "And now Xander and Tara are the only people out there trying to stop her, and we don't even know why she's still alive… and I'm here with you."

His eyes narrowed. "Fill me in, Slayer. We can't leave things to the whelp."

She paused, as if she was considering his words. A beat. Then… "No."

"No?" he stared at her disbelievingly. "You're just going to let Red end the world now, are you?"

She shook her head. "I had a Slayer dream. Literally. She'll be alright. The world will be alright."

He cocked his head and looked at her, and she was swamped with memories. The way he always looked at her. She couldn't believe how easily he'd slipped, how easily they'd slipped from confronting each other to the apocalypse. It seemed like a safer topic, she realised with a shiver. She was more comfortable about the possible ending of the world than actually owning up to everything with Spike.

Sunnydale was such a screwed up place.

"So you're saying that the soddin' Powers that Meddle sent you a dream to say things were gonna be dandy? I thought you always said they were warnings."

"This one was," she didn't want to look at him now. The highway stretched before them, the wilderness around them and she wished that she could see which way the other road led. "They were just warning me about another apocalypse."

His shoulders tensed. "Pre-emptive," he said.

She was torn again, between shivering away from his soul-piercing stare and drawing closer because she wanted to see herself in his eyes, because she wanted to know what her soul looked like and it just might be him; this demon that could love and fight and kill all in one breath.

"About you," she suddenly blurted out. "They were warning me about you."

They were the wrong words, and she cursed herself for them even before his eyes turned to flint. "They were, were they?" he asked, softly.

She saw it the second that it happened. The change. He grew taller, fuller. His shoulders straightened and his face curled into an ugly sneer, even as he stalked forwards towards her. "So what? What'll I do, Slayer?" he ran a finger down her arm and she tensed. "Be the Big Bad again? Rain everything down in blood and destruction?" he curled his tongue between his teeth and she shivered as he leant down to breathe tantalisingly into her ear. "Or is it what I'll make you do?"

It was her turn. She stepped away from his hands, barely restraining herself from slapping him away… the anger in her eyes so intense she was almost blinded by it.

Until she saw his eyes. His eyes that matched that blue, blue sky she had seen.

Like rain.

His eyes were like rain. She stared transfixed as his sneer faltered, as his predator stance shifted, and with that single realisation the rage that had threatened to erupt with his words cooled to a simmer. "That's bullshit and you know it, Spike."

He growled, but she didn't hear hatred. "Are you so sure about that?"

_Yes, yes I am._ "They were warning me about…"

She paused. And thought. What had they been warning her specifically about? She bit her lip and almost drew blood, and her arms wrapped around herself as a cold wind assailed them. She had to stop him from doing whatever he'd planned to do. Yet judging by what Faith had been saying, it didn't look as if the act of stopping was supposed to have a dusty ending.

"Well, pet?"

She looked at him, sharp-eyed. "What were you going to do, Spike?"

He stiffened at her accusatory tone. "What do you mean what was I going to do?" he asked defensively.

She gestured at the motorbike. "Where were you going? They told me I had to stop you from what you were going to do, because if I didn't, then we'd have another apocalypse on our hands."

His jaw dropped, and she was suddenly struck by indecision. His face was a storm, lightning and thunder chasing their way across his pale marble features, but they weren't form anger, they were from confusion and… guilt?

He swallowed, bitterly. "I don't have to tell you what I was going to do, Slayer," he stepped away from her again, and she felt bereft.

"What, were you going to raze LA? Get your chip out? Massacre innocents?" her eyes blazed as a wave of possibilities overturned her head. "God, you were going to do that?"

He watched as, like always, the Slayer got a few too many steps ahead of herself.

"I can't believe you!" she flared. "I thought that you'd actually started to change… Faith even said I should trust you, should stop lying to myself about you, and off you go and want to start killing again?"

"Hey, wait…"

She continued, oblivious. "God, Spike… didn't you even think? Or did you plan to not care when I found everyone with their throats ripped out and flowers everywhere?"

His eyes were stony again. "Now listen here, Slayer…"

"And then I would have had to stake you!" she raged, not even registering his growing ire. "You evil…"

There was only so much a vampire could take in one night. Spike had soul-searched… or searched the grubby remains of what might have constituted as a soul, at any rate. He'd travelled, he chain-smoked, he'd just about gone off his bat. And so he snapped. "Listen, you self-righteous bint," he growled, seizing her arm. "Why do you always have to bloody see the worst in me?"

_They don't see you. But I do. You walk in worlds, My William… my Shining Knight…_

"Because there's nothing else to see," Buffy shouted, her voice cracking. "Because if that's not what you were going to do, then why are you hiding it from me?"

"I was going to get my soddin' soul!" he yelled.

It felt drawn out, like a prayer. Buffy froze, and he was like the sea. "I was going to get my soul," he repeated, feeling an incredible weariness drop over him. "I was going to get my bloody soul, because then you could love me."

She stayed still.

"Go on, then," he laughed, tears starting to prick at his eyes again. "Give me your speech. Tell me how you could never love a thing like me. Tell me how even a soul couldn't make me any better, couldn't even bring you to look at me…"

His lungs sucked in air as he suddenly turned to game-face and she stared at him wide-eyed.

"Tell me I'm beneath you," he hissed.

The night was full of pauses. Seconds ticked past as she felt them, like clock hands moving inside her skull. Finally, quietly… "No."

"What the fuck do you mean, 'no'?" he snarled, and she wondered for a second if he was going to hit her and break her nose. "You always do, that's what you do! It's what you always do, it's what you'll always do, it's what…"

"Spike."

His hysteria stopped for a second. "What?"

"Shut up."

Mustering all of her will-power, Buffy grabbed his head, and pulled him down to her until she felt his fangs touch her lips.

And then she kissed him and tasted blood.


	4. The First Gate

**Chapter IV: The First Gates**

**A/N. (Wheee! 2nd chapter in a short number of days! Well, when you consider my first chapter as updating Starlight II… hey, I'm proud, knowing my awful record : )**

**Now, I know that this story has mostly been Spuffy centric so far, but it's going to need to broaden out to the other characters soon too. Which is a good thing, yeah? I hope you enjoy this, as confusing and mixed as it may be. And yeah, I used a lot of the original dialogue in the last part. But I loved that scene so much I wanted to recreate it here.**

**I hope you all enjoy, and please review! Your wonderful, wonderful previous reviews have helped me to keep writing this story. First, I planned to end it on the first chapter. Then, I was seriously considering ending it at the last chapter (hey, I thought it would make an okay ending). But because I've been looking at your reviews, I've decided to keep going. Not only for me, but for you. So thank you.)**

8 8 8

"Just a few more steps… if I can get to her…"

Xander wanted to scream. Cry. Pray. Most of all, he wanted to curl up in a ball and never look up again. Never see what he was seeing, or see what he had seen.

Xander wished he could be blind.

But he wasn't, and so he could see with utmost clarity the drawn, haggard look on Tara's face. And while he wanted to shout at her that it was only a few more steps over the hill, over to the sight that he didn't want to see. Only a few more steps to stopping Willow ending the world.

"No."

"No?" Tara's stricken look burned into his eyes. "This is my fault! If, if I…"

It had been a tough week. He was so incredibly tired. The sand stung his eyes and scoured his skin. Weariness clogged every bone. He wasn't even sure if he could hold himself up at the moment, let alone Tara.

And yet he was.

Xander cleared his head and curled his supporting arm tighter around the blonde Wiccan. "Yeah," he answered roughly. "It was really your fault that Warren decided to shoot you, honest."

"But…"

He looked at her. Looked. His eyes were watering and tired, but he looked now anyway. The bloody hole in her chest was starting to ooze again, and he wanted to choke. "Look, whoever she was didn't heal you enough. Stay here."

He unslung her from around his shoulders and laid her gently on the sand, before running up and over the hill. To what he hadn't wanted to see in the first place.

Willow.

8 8 8

"You."

Spike knew he looked like a corpse under the hospital lights. They were bright, razing, sharp… he couldn't understand how people could stand it. But that was a question that only occupied a small, irrational part of his mind. The rest of it was fixated on the teenager right in front of him.

"You!" Dawn hissed, looking from Spike to Buffy and then back again. "I can't believe you brought him here!"

"Dawn…" Buffy started.

"What?" the Key rounded on her, blue eyes blazing furiously. "What can you possibly say that can explain you bringing that… _rapist_ here?"

Spike sucked in his breath, but Buffy beat him to the quick. "He didn't. He's not that and you know it," she told her sister crisply. "Now keep your voice down or the staff will realise we're all here and kick us out."

Dawn subsided at that, but with a murderous glare she stalked off to throw herself down besides Giles again. He was still unconscious, his eyelids flickering as if he were dreaming. Buffy found it slightly wiggy, but of course she had more important things to concentrate on.

She turned again, and saw the drawn, pained look on his face. The face that she'd dreamed of so often. Touched in caring, punched in hate. The night had been almost too much for him. His fingers twitched nervelessly, and it looked like he was only just managing to restrain himself from lighting up another cigarette.

Stepping closer, until she knew no-one else could hear, she whispered. "Are you alright?"

It was an empty question after everything else that had gone down that night. He tensed. "She's right, y'know."

Buffy thinned her lips. "She doesn't understand everything. Heck, I didn't even understand everything until a few hours ago."

He looked at her with dead eyes. She shivered. "It's still true, innit? Extenuatin' circumstances don't really count when it all boils down. I did somethin' I swore I'd never do, and I not only bollocksed it up right well with you, I lost NIbblet."

She restrained the urge to slap him. Who the hell was this? Spike _never_ gave up! "I did my share of the mucking things up," she said firmly. "And count on it, when we tell Dawn everything, she'll be pounding on me, not you."

He couldn't help it. A smile quirked his lips as he pictured it. But then he realised the rest of her words, and incredulity slipped over his face. "Wait… you're goin' to tell her?"

She looked at him inscrutably. "I'm going to tell everyone, Spike."

Spike sucked in breath. The two of them were almost nose to nose in their intensity now. Dawn glared them, knowing they probably wouldn't have noticed her if she'd screamed at them. Her shoulders were sharp, tight with grief and tiredness. Fighting those earth golems had been painless until the adrenaline wore off.

Now, a deeper pain was aching in her. God… it had been unbelievable when Xander had… she still didn't want to believe it. But that… that _bastard_ that she'd once considered her older brother hadn't denied it. Just looked away with shame in his eyes. How could it be that he could do that? How could it be that he would hurt Buffy like that, when it was the same guy who could always make her laugh when she was feeling low about her Keyness and all the other horrors teenage life could bestow, the same person who'd made her a completely unhealthy breakfast when she was late for school… the same _man_ who'd held her all those nights they'd cried together for the Slayer they loved.

"If you two are going to get any closer, you'd better get out," she said harshly. Her voice split the two apart. Broke them from their moment that she didn't understand, and the looks on their faces chilled her. She'd never seen Spike looking so… _defeated_. Not since…

Dawn didn't want to think about that. So as they stared at her, her chin tilted defiantly upwards. "You're making me sick."

She almost saw it coming when Buffy snapped. "Dawnie…"

But then, surprisingly, Spike's hand came across Buffy and curled gently around her wrist. "Easy now, Slayer." He sounded so tired that if Dawn hadn't been so pissed at him, she would have run to him to hold him up. To lead him to a bed. To let the demon sleep. But of course, she was angry. And the hatred and love warring inside her intestines was making heart pound.

Buffy looked like just an angry bigger sister for a second, and then she noticeably relaxed. Dawn watched, open-mouthed, as the Slayer's hand tentatively found Spike's cold ones and squeezed. There was a tenderness in there that she just couldn't understand.

The Key narrowed her eyes. There was something going on here that she hadn't been told.

"Buffy, how can you stand to even touch him?"

It was a good question, even though it tasted hot and awful in her mouth as she came out. Her sister didn't look surprised any more, but funnily enough, Spike's eyes held a question when they captured the Slayer's again. Dawn had a point. Everyone knew it. And all three of them wanted an answer.

Buffy sighed. "Dawn…" she sounded incredibly tired. "Are you going to make snarky comments the entire night?"

The teenager thinned her lips and lifted her chin. "Yeah-huh. Unless you tell me what's going on."

The vampire looked between the two, before turning towards the door. "I'll leave, then," he said tiredly. "Let the two of you have your heart-to-hearts," he directed a careful look at Buffy. "I'll… I'll be back at m' crypt if you need me."

His voice was so uncertain Buffy's fist clenched. "You're staying right here."

Ignoring Dawn's glare, she smiled slightly as his eyebrow arched. "Interferin' between you and the Bit?" he glanced towards Dawn. "After everythin' that's gone down tonight, I'm experiencing a strange feeling of self-preservation."

"Oh, don't worry, Spike," Dawn said, her voice dripping with sweetness. "I'll only set you on fire while you're asleep if I hear something I don't like."

His eyes glittered. "Had better invitations in m' time." He hesitated, and then collapsed into a chair. "Righto, then. Let's have at it."

8 8 8

Willow laughed, incredulously, but there was a hint of desperation in there too. "Is this the master plan? You're going to stop me by telling me you love me?"

Xander shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. How was he supposed to act in the face of his best friend ending the world right in front of him? "Well, I was going to walk you off a cliff and hand you an anvil, but ... it seemed kinda cartoony."

Not only that, Willow was not Wily Coyote. She was intelligent, she was powerful… and she was looking black and veiny.

It wasn't just the physical changes that scared him, though. In fact, they counted as relatively minor next to the great, whopping load of pain he could see in her eyes. Eyes that proved that she'd used to be the Willow he'd known. Eyes that reflected the twisting, writhing serpent-women above him. Eyes that seemed fathomless now in her darkness as she sneered, and shook her head. "Oh Xander… still making jokes."

He forced himself to see _her_, and not the statues. "I'm not joking. I know… I know you're in pain."

The words flowed out of his mouth, but in his head they were jumpy. Blurred. Words touched by the blackness in her eyes. God, her eyes were so _dark_. Glassy and fathomless… so deep that he couldn't find that unique glint in her eyes that made her Willow.

At that realisation, something in his chest pulled so hard he almost fell over.

"I… can't _imagine_ the pain you're in," he said quietly. "And I know you're about to do something apocalyptically…evil and stupid, and hey…" he spread out his arms with a lopsided grin. "I still want to hang. You're Willow."

At the words, her jaw tightened. The elfin features he knew so well were stretched impossibly thin over her cheekbones, making her skin look parchment-thin in the blazing light. "Don't call me that."

_Why not?_ He cried in the soundless reaches of his mind. His life had always, since he could remember, been shaped around a Willow-sized object that had dictated his days. Later, there'd be Buffy-sized objects and apocalypse-sized objects too… but Willow had always been a constant. Willow. _Willow_. The shattered woman in front of him now. The innocent, ridiculously brilliant schoolgirl she'd been in high school…

And then, his memories broke, and he smiled a smile of pure love at her.

"First day of kindergarten…" he shook his head and laughed as he remembered. "You cried because you broke the yellow crayon, and you were too afraid to tell anyone." He looked down, still smiling gently, and then raised his eyes squarely to meet hers.

"You've come pretty far, Willow. "Ending the world… not a terrific notion. But the thing is?"

He let the half-question sit in the air for a while as he searched her eyes. Where was it? That _glint_…

He took a deep, deep breath, and his words came, as if they'd been drawn up from the bottom of his soul. "Yeah. I love you."

His eyes were still on hers, unflinchingly, even as lightning seemed to race across her dark orbs. "I loved crayon-breaky Willow and I love ... scary veiny Willow. So if I'm going out… it's here. If you wanna kill the world? Well, then start with me."

He drew her in. Captured her with his silent message, almost stronger than his voice. _I love you, Willow_. He spoke calmness in all of her rage and fury, and in his own panic, the calmness lulled him until the words coming out of his mouth were heavy with truth. "I've earned that."

Her eyes shifted. Her fingers trembled. "You think I won't?" she snarled.

Again, Xander softly smiled. It was the truest moment in the last few months that he'd felt, and it was liberating. In all of the chaos of Buffy's resurrection, his own awful, heartbreaking end with Anya, and Willow's descent… for the first time he felt as if he was in the right place, and the right time.

Doing the right thing.

"It doesn't matter. I'll still love you."

Faced with the calmness and love in his eyes, Willow snapped. "Shut up!" she screamed.

It was all in the one gesture. There was no flashing lights, no beautiful, dark torrential streams of magic. Xander just jerked back as if he'd been brutally hit, and blood slashed its way across his cheek. Willow panted.

Xander staggered, trying to regain his balance from the blow, and then looked up at her again.

"I love you," he said softly.

Willow brought her arm down sharply, and without even a cry, Xander doubled over and fell to his knees, panting. It felt strange, he decided. There was nothing there, and yet the pain was real enough. Nothing sliced through his shirt to leave the bloody gashes, and yet they were there anyway. The pain twisted his face, but he looked up again. Knowing. Just _knowing_.

"I ... love y-"

"Shut up!!" she screamed wildly. He watched, distantly, as she threw a blast of magic at him, but when the wave of agony came, he didn't fall. He wouldn't fall again.

She held out her hand, magic crackling around her fingers like a sharp aurora. And as she stared at it in fear, he moved towards her.

"I love you, Willow."

She shook her head violently. Her black hair slapped against her face. "Stop!" she shrieked, and Xander reeled back, but only slightly. His eyes were focused on her.

"_Stop_!!"

She blasted him again. He passed through it effortlessly. Her eyes began to burn, and he smiled. "I love you."

She broke.

Broke, and broke hard.

"Stop…" all that was left was just a plaintive cry, like the sigh of a wind, and then Willow wept. Xander caught her, the gentleness in him even as she beat her clenched fists against his chest. Wailed into his ear. He was indestructible. And he fell with her, when she fell. Knelt with her when she knelt. Cried with her when she cried.

And the blackness drained away from her hair, and the veins faded from her skin. It was Willow in his arms, and he pressed a kiss against her head. "I love you."

The words rang in his own head. _I love you, Willow. Everything that's happened… I love you. I love you I love you I love you I love you._ It didn't matter that it was no longer the innocent friend love, or the temporary gropey-kissy love they'd experience for such a short period of time. It wasn't the naïve love either. It wasn't the 'just friends' love. It was a love that transcended all of that. Xander knew that beneath her elfin face lay a darkness he was scared of. He'd just _seen _it, for God's sake! He'd been dealing with it for the last few days. He always knew that little Willow held more power than even she knew. But still, he loved the dark veiny side, born of grief and turmoil, simply because it was a part of her.

Her hair… her red, red hair lay on his shoulder. He wondered when to tell her, this young woman who he knew so well.

In this day of truths, this day of the death of who they'd been before…

He swallowed. "Willow… she's… she's alive."

Her head snapped up. "T-tara?" She's… alive?"

His face turned grim. "Barely," he admitted. "It was rough getting here."

She didn't seem to have heard the last part. "Oh, please…" she scrambled up, desperately. "I have to see her! I…"

She looked around wildly, and so Xander took her by her arm and led her over the hill, stepping on the hot sand like ice. As soon as she saw Tara lying on the ground, her eyes vacant and unseeing she shrieked and sprinted the last steps to fling herself down by Tara's side. "Oh… oh Goddess she's…"

Xander was there. "Blood loss… I think she's unconscious."

Willow looked around frantically, and then she started hyperventilating. "Oh… Oh Goddess… I used up all my magic trying to…"

It looked like she was about to start crying again. Xander wanted to cry for her. With her. Whatever. He wanted to cry, and it wasn't just from the pain and blood his childhood friend had dealt him. "We need to get her to a hospital."

Willow looked up at him with almost childlike eyes. "Can we get her there in time?"

Xander had gone too far today to lie. "Probably not."

He almost expected her eyes to grow black again, but instead they just burned fiercely. "I don't… wait… Xander, give me your hand!"

He knew he should have been wary about it. He knew that Willow had just gone off on a crazy magic spree, and it hadn't been pretty. He knew that she'd almost ended the world with it. But his speech earlier still rang in his ears, and so he put his hand in hers and watched.

Watched as Tara's body began to glow. Watched as Willow threw her head back and sweat dripped from her face.

Watched as the hole in Tara's chest closed up, until the skin was flawless and Tara opened her eyes. And then, there was nothing left for Willow to do except for collapse into her lover's arms, sobbing with relief.


	5. Game master Revealed

**Chapter V: Game master revealed**

**A/N. (Well then. I think this could be the last chapter. I hope that it won't be too disappointing to you all. I would have preferred to keep going with this fic, and maybe I will in the future. But for now, this year is a bit too crazy for me to even hope to juggle three different fics.**

**I hope that you've enjoyed this journey. I certainly did. Straight-talk in the Jossverse was well nigh non-existent! I know that Joss owns all… but if I'd been the one holding the cards, happy endings would have come around a bit more! Thank you truly to all of the people who have reviewed this fic, because as I've said previously, you've honestly helped me keep writing when I planned it to be only a one shot. So thanks. This chapter, this fic, was all for you.)**

8 8 8

The hospital seemed a strange place to congregate, but then again, Giles was there. And they had always seemed to meet where Giles was. First it had been the Library, then his apartment, and then the Magic Box. It seemed that his very surroundings guided them, absorbed some of his calming, loving energy.

And then again, the hospital was also a place of beginnings and endings. Almost all of them had been in there at one point, often from Slayage-related injuries. And it was there that they had, in a circuitous way, lost Joyce.

But they hadn't lost anyone this time. It was… nothing short of incredible.

Buffy wiped a tired hand over her eyes, as she nestled in the haven of Spike's arms. Dawn was still sitting, silently for once, her eyes wide with turmoil and disbelief. They hadn't left anything out. Not even some of the nastier details. Buffy had hesitated before them, and then continued grimly anyway. Dawn needed to know it, for Spike. Because Spike needed Dawn to know it. It had wrenched her heart, seeing the gulf between them. Knowing that she was partly the cause. Actually, if she was honest with herself, she was mostly the cause. And it hadn't been fair on either of them, not with what had happened over the summer that she died.

"I, I don't understand…" Dawn said finally. "You told Xander he'd tried to rape you."

A bitter smile twisted Spike's lips. "But I did, Nibblet. Big Sis doesn't lie."

"Shut up, Spike," she replied absently, but it held none of the venom that it had before. "Buffy?"

The Slayer steeled herself and looked straight into her little sister's eyes. "It felt like that at the time," she answered quietly. "I'd been hurt by a vamp on patrol, and… and I was just feeling so _exhausted_. It wasn't the time for anything to go down between us, but it happened. In the heat of the moment, it felt like rape. I won't deny it. But now that I look back, Spike probably just thought we were still playing that sick game where I told him 'no' and meant 'yes'."

She paused, and then tilted her head at the vampire in question. His eyes were subdued and dark with shame as he looked away from her. She thinned her lips. "Right Spike?"

He looked up at her again. "S'no excuse, Slayer. I should have known better."

She squeezed the hands that linked loosely at her stomach, giving them warmth. "You couldn't have."

Dawn studied them again, before finally breaking out in a wan chuckle. "You know, I'd say that I can't believe the two of you were so stupid, but after all I've seen, it wouldn't be true."

Buffy felt the last shreds of defiance and pride rear up inside her at that before an inner voice silenced them. "Heh," she mumbled. "You know, all you need to screw anything up is toss a side of Buffy Summers into the mix."

Spike moved his slender fingers from around her waist to rub at her shoulders. "Now, pet. Don't go taking all of this onto yourself. I think I deserve a rather large portion of the blame m'self."

What could have become a long argument of blame-taking dissipated instantly. when a sudden influx of people arrived. Anya came first, teleporting straight into the room. "People! You wouldn't believe what I just realised, but…"

Her words were cut off when Xander and Willow, supporting Tara between them, limped through the door.

And then Giles woke.

It could have been pandemonium. As it was, Xander almost dropped Tara at the sight of Buffy nestled into Spike's chest, the platinum-blonde vampire gently massaging her shoulders with a lost look of awe on his sharply angled face. Willow and Giles' eyes met across the space and she winced. Anya grew silent at Xander's entrance. Dawn glared daggers at Xander. It was extraordinarily lucky, then, for all of them that the last two arrivals heralded their coming with such bright lights that they all instinctively cried out and shielded their eyes.

When the glare was replaced by a gentle glowing, Buffy sat up, blinking spots away from her retinas. And then she froze as her vision cleared, and felt Spike's hand on her arm tighten in shock.

"Mum? Mummy…?"

Joyce stood on air, resplendent in the golden shimmer around her as they stared at her in disbelief. She laughed gently, and gradually floated down until her feet touched the ground again. Moving closer, she touched Buffy's face and at that touch, the Slayer and the Key both moved. Flinging themselves at her, they sobbed in her celestial robes, clinging to her as tightly as they could. Buffy had been afraid for a moment that she'd pass right through her, but with that last touch she'd known it was safe. The Scoobies stood stunned, as Joyce Summers cradled her children and then looked up to all of them.

"I'm afraid I don't have much time."

It was Joyce's voice. Warm and rich and loving, and Spike felt himself melt under it. There had been so many nights he'd stopped by her grave and talked to her, mourning the loss of a great lady. She smiled at him, and he was about to sink his head down in shame before he saw the loving glint in her eye.

Buffy gave her mother one last hug before she stood back, tears gradually drying on her cheeks. "T-time? Did you… did you cause all of this, then?"

Joyce squeezed her fondly on the shoulder. "Another colleague of mine was sent to heal Tara, but I was given the privilege of addressing all of you. I'm sure that all of you know that today has not been a normal day."

"Indeed," Giles said tiredly, wishing he had his glasses to clean to keep his hands busy. "That might actually be the best understatement I've heard all year."

She chuckled, and looked at all of them. "Yes. But now I must speak quickly. There is a reason for this day, and the reason is that if things had gone on without the Powers taking a hand, grave things would have happened. Worse than what any of you have experienced."

All of them wanted to talk, but such was her presence now that they stayed silent. "The First Evil was triggered in the spell that brought Buffy back to life." She watched impassively as the red-headed witch shrunk back with a low cry. "It's not entirely your fault, Willow. Not entirely. But it is done, and such a huge event cannot be undone without catastrophic consequences. But were you to face the First Evil as you were… fractured and with two members lost to you, then it would ultimately lead the universe's demise."

Xander gulped. "Grand-scale apocalypse, then. But what makes it any different from the ones the Buffster and us have stopped before?"

Her eyes went straight through all of them. "Because there wouldn't have been an 'us'."

The finality of that statement made him shiver.

"In fact," Joyce continued calmly. "There hasn't been an 'us' with you for a long time. All of you here," she looked significantly at Xander and Giles. "And yes, including Spike, are working towards a similar goal. To save the world. And yet you have let miscommunication, doubt, and fear weave throughout you all. After I have gone, I expect my daughter and Spike have something to tell you. And all of you _will_ listen. Because they are meant to be together, and Spike is meant to stay soulless. Because he already has a soul in Buffy."

Spike jerked once, but didn't say anything as the rest of the gang's eyes fell on them. He shifted uncomfortably. "And the others, Mum?" he asked quietly.

"Mr. Giles… I expect that you remember where your place is."

Her voice was as acidic as a heavenly voice could be, and the Watcher bowed his head. She looked sternly on him for a moment, before she softened. "That said, I do understand, Rupert, why you did as you did. But Buffy will live far longer with you by her side. I trust that is what you wish too."

He felt his breath catch. "With all of my heart."

"As for you…" she turned to Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara. "You have let doubts, fears, and prejudices cloud your minds towards each other." She nodded towards Willow and Tara. "I doubt you will have too much problems valuing each other after this… but the two of you will need to learn to meld your magics, far more than you have done previously. Then, Willow can utilise all of her power without turning to the wrong side, and Tara, I think you shall be surprised at how much untapped power lies within you."

The dazed blonde witch gave into her instincts and curtsied slightly. Joyce smiled again, before turning to Xander and Anya. A shadow crossed her face.

"I think the two of you know what you need to do."

"I wouldn't say that," Anya said sharply. "He left me at the altar. In front of everyone. I'd say that all I need to do is ignore him."

"But you still love him. And he loves you," Joyce touched her kindly. "You cannot rip yourselves up over this. He made a mistake. That is part of what it is to be human."

"I'm a demon now."

"But this one," she gestured towards Spike, "Has shown that that is no barrier."

Spike gulped, and Xander finally snapped at his presence. "Speaking of which. Why is he still here and not staked?"

Joyce looked at him inscrutably for a moment, and then swept the room with her glance. "Anyanka," she said softly. "How many people have you killed."

A bleak frown came over Anya's face. "I… I don't know. Thousands. Maybe even tens of thousands."

Joyce nodded, and turned back to the rest of them. "And yet Xander still loves her in her demon form."

Buffy saw Anya jolt at this, and Xander ducked his head. Then she turned her gaze to the two of them.

"Earlier tonight, Spike was on a path towards fighting for his life. To get his soul. For my daughter."

She let the news seep into the amazed Scoobies, before continuing. "I know that such a short visit cannot change years of enmity, but look how he has changed. He has gone against his very nature to help. To change. Into the man that you see before you. He and Buffy together will save the world, but they will need your full support behind them."

"I don't get it," Xander shook his head. "So what? We go around to every vamp now and ask them politely whether they want to be white hats?"

Joyce gave him a level gaze. "Spike is one of a kind. But it is true, we have all seen the world in too much black and white. It is time to remedy that. Then perhaps… perhaps you will defeat the First Evil."

She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then turned to Buffy and Spike themselves. "And you two… you have already taken a large step tonight. Remember this, Buffy. Love. Give. Forgive. They told me to tell you to not be run by fear. And Spike… it wouldn't hurt to hold yourself somewhat higher than you've been doing."

He opened his mouth to argue with that, but then shut it, as if thinking better.

Dawn had been still buried in her mother's robes before this, but now she stood back. "What about me?" she said softly. "You seem to have a message for everyone else here, Mummy. What about me?"

Joyce reached out tenderly to push a strand of Dawn's hair behind her ear. "You're growing up so quickly, pumpkin belly."

When the Key squirmed, she laughed. "There will be a long road ahead, Dawn. You are still the Key, and in the future, something will happen that will make you aware of the power that you hold, the power still in your blood. You will be able to access dimensions beyond counting. But it will be dangerous. So promise me that you'll take care of yourself."

"I will."

"Good," a faint shadow of regret passed over Joyce's face. "I'm sorry that I cannot stay longer. I only wish I could. But I begged the Powers enough to make me able to touch you… they cannot extend my time here. I… oh…"

Before, Joyce had been the self-assured messenger of the Powers above. Now, she seemed to be just a woman again. A Mother. She reached out to all of them as if to hug them, and Buffy and Dawn gladly burrowed themselves back into her embrace, tears streaming freely. "Oh good luck, all of you. Please, please take care of yourselves. The things that they showed me… don't _ever_ doubt each other. Ever, you hear me?"

Before their eyes, she began to fade. Bit by bit, she became more insubstantial, until she had almost disappeared. And then, it was only her voice left.

"And Buffy? Your piece of Heaven is right there…"

The Slayer could no longer see her, especially not through the new, blinding curtain of tears. But she somehow knew that her mother had been looking at Spike, and she understood.

In some way, they all understood.

It would take them days. Weeks. Months, perhaps, to iron out the creases that had so marred their relationships together. There was a fragile, tenuous bond now, gifted to them from the woman who had been such a warmth to their lives. But the delicate bond could go stronger, and it would.

They would die, some of them. Some of the things that Joyce had seen could not be changed, lest the proper path ahead be rent asunder. But for now, they had been given life.

So they looked forwards, to a beginning, where Life was no longer the Big Bad.

** The End **


End file.
